


A Lesson in Lust

by 3rd_Degree_Arsan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I have been working on this for so long, If you think it's hot now...just wait., Older Arya, The porn won't stop, There is an actual plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 03:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13355958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rd_Degree_Arsan/pseuds/3rd_Degree_Arsan
Summary: Arya is a woman now dammit! And yet Sandor continues to treat and think of her like that little girl she once was, or so she thinks. She asks for a very serious favor, and Sandor is here to teach her an important lesson.





	A Lesson in Lust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swoledor_clegainz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swoledor_clegainz/gifts), [wtflommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtflommy/gifts).



* * *

 

As soon as Arya sunk into the nearly scalding water of the tub, she felt her body start to relax in a way it hadn't in over a month and an audible groan escaped her lips as she sunk down till only her head and shoulders remained exposed. After weeks of traveling with no proper bath, she'd had enough. After an explosive fight in the middle of the small town they were traveling through, he's conceded to her after commonfolk had started to stop and stare at the massive man and tiny young woman in a crude verbal sparring match.

Placing both her hands on the sides of the wide wooden basin she submerged herself completely, coming up once she had wetted herself entirely and went to work with the pieces of lye soap purchased for the bath from a local perfumer. He'd been so pleased with her selection, going into great detail about the composition of the soap. To her, it smelled soft, light, a vague floral at first, then warming with spices and woods, then erupting into flame. It smelled perfect to her the moment she'd picked it up, paying the elderly man his few pieces of coin and heading back quickly to the large inn in the center of town. She'd noticed the storm clouds rolling in and was hoping to be in bed by the time the rains arrived, for a peaceful sleep. While Arya worked the rough bar over her skin, scrubbing away the muck and grime of weeks of not properly bathing, feeling the rough pieces of young bay leaf and lavender break off and fall away into the water she contemplated her and Sandor's row.

Her eyes were prickling again at the names he'd called her even as she scrunched her face in anger. "Weak little cunt", a "burdensome wretch" or her favorite of the whole fight, "dead weight of a girl he should have left in a ditch somewhere." Arya tried very hard not to be bothered by things like harsh words as they're all the brutish man seemed to know and he was tired and angry and not looking to spend the coin but he'd really gone above and beyond to try and cut her down to get to bend to his will.

_Foolish, he should know better than that, I get on my knees for no one. Especially not him._

When she'd formed a rich lather over her arms, shoulders, she moved down over her breasts, inspecting their growth over the past 2 and a half years. She'd been a late bloomer, boyish and as flat as a board even through the first two years with her moonblood, but eventually, they'd sprouted and were now both full enough to fill her hands. _Not that it was much, to begin with_. She moved the rough soap gently over her nipples and the tender flesh found there as a kindness to herself. At first, Arya had gone without stays or bandaging her breasts not realizing the changes happening as her breasts developed but now it was impossible to go without her wrap lest she was looking for a bloody and incredibly sore chest from rubbing linen against flesh. Finishing with the ordeal of her chest, she moved on to violently scrubbing at her armpits, rib cage, and defined abdomen. She noted all the old scars and new, though life as a sellsword wasn't easy and had gotten her and Sandor into quite a few predicaments over the year, she was glad for the memories and skills it had afforded her even if Sandor was still the biggest shit in the seven kingdoms.

She stood up out of the still slightly steaming bath, placing her pink bum on the edge of the large wooden tub as she moved on with her work, scrubbing across her hipbones, and along the swell of her hips, between the gap of her thighs and down her toned thighs to her toes. Satisfied with a job well done she effortlessly slipped back into the water, submerging her entire body to remove any soap and lather. Standing again, this time to get out of the bath she looked down and noticed one last thing she'd forgotten to deal with between her legs.There, lied the certainty of her womanhood, a dense patch of thick black hair over her core. Arya pondered the amount of hair for a second before reaching out of the tub for the razor-sharp dagger she kept in a pocket on the leg of her traveling pants. Finding it after a few moments of fumbling and dripping water onto the floor she returned to the edge of the tub, lifting one leg and placing it on the edge and shifting her other knee away she examined the small bush that had grown since her last bath, and started to carefully trim away a large portion of the curly hairs. She continued to trim for a while, scraping the blade against the delicate skin found on her labia and thighs till she was left with nothing more than a neat large triangle on her mons.

Putting the blade down, Arya slipped her hand between her legs, checking one last time for any stray hairs and relishing the softness and smoothness of her 'cunt' as Sandor would call it. Thinking of Sandor with her hand on her womanhood wasn't a new thing for Arya, though she'd never admitted it aloud. He was the only man in her daily life, he was bigger than any man she'd ever seen and so strong and aggressive and before she knew it she found her fingers delving inside of her to bring some extra relaxation and respite. Arya quickly realized this wasn't the most comfortable place to do this, precariously perched on the edge of the giant wooden basin and stepped on leg out onto the sheets placed on the floor to prevents slipping and then the other, twisting the pads of her feet back and forth to dry them before she all but flopped down onto the moderately sized bed. The young woman wiggled her naked back and cheeks into the worn but soft sheets as Arya spread her legs apart, letting them fall naturally as she stroked gently at her trimmed curls and the dampening cleft between her legs as her imagination took her.

She thought of Sandor as a woodcutter, a much more simple man and she was his little wife as her fingers delved gently into her puffy lips to stroke and tease her inner labia. He'd come home from a long day working, entering the house after putting the wood and horses and cart away. She'd smell him before she saw him with sweat and musk, wood sap and earth on his skin and she'd breath deeply taking in the familiar scent. He'd come up quietly behind her as she worked at the table preparing dinner and place his dirty hands on her hips and bend to press his bearded lips into her neck as he told her how he'd thought about her all day as he'd worked away. In the same breath, real-life Arya's thumb found her clit and circled gently and her index and middle finger continued to rub and tease her entrance.

"I want you now woman," He'd growl into her ear as his massive hands would tighten around her tiny waist as he pressed his already hard manhood into her back. It was like this often, his lust for her insatiable. She's silently put down the knife she was chopping vegetables with and bend to pull up her skirts to expose her pale arse cheeks and thighs to her husband as she listened to him unlace his breeches and released the throbbing member that was waiting for her.

Lost in her reverie Arya threw a damp arm over her eyes as her thumb started to work her clit harder, alternating between circles and actually sweeping over the tiny nub. Her breasts rose and fell with her increasing breath as her first two fingers had finally delved into her hot core, gently pumping and flexing against each other as the daydream continued to unfold.

Dream Sandor would spit down onto his hand, and she'd listen as he'd rub it over the length of his manhood, pumping up and down to ensure he was nice and lubed. His other free hand would reach out and stroke his wife's cunt with care, parting the swollen and ready lips to rub her eager clit with his thick thumb causing her to lay down on their table. She'd moan quietly as he picked up the tempo on his member and on her sensitive clit, causing her lift her hips and spread her legs further for him, ready for him to fuck her like he wanted.

Falling deeper into her private wish Arya found her mimicking the actions of her dream-self, lifting her hips slightly off the bed as she really laid into her now slick pussy, her slender fingers pumping in and out as she strived to rub the spongy tissue found a few inches in. Rubbing there often brought the best releases for her when paired with aggressively rubbing her clit as she was now.

In her vision now that Sandor realized his wife was nice and ready for him he'd sidle up to her pressing his leather and cloth covered leg against hers he'd pin her legs between him and the table. He'd rub his head up and down the length of her core, gaining extra lubrication as his little wife mewled under him. She'd stand on her toes, the heels of her slip ons falling to the floor as she tried to get him to finally put his manhood inside her as she clutched the hems of her skirts and pressed her face into her arms. Finally, he'd be done with his teasing and give his little woman what she wanted, and inch by inch, press his length inside of her as her legs trembled and she'd moaned out loud.

The real Arya couldn't help but mimic the self from her dreams, her mouth falling open as she lifted her arm off of her eyes to take over the duty of rubbing her clit as she focused both her hands on pressing her over the edge. A third finger had joined her first two in her attempts to create the fullness she imagined, stretching her more than was normally comfortable as her other hand's fingers worked over her clit in a fervor as her body was covered in the finest sheen of sweat started to coat her strong and lithe body.

Arya's dream-self would let out a body trembling moan when her husband finally bottomed out in her. His body would be flush with hers before he'd start to pump slowly, savoring the hot tightness of the cunt wrapped around him as he'd find his hands back on her skirts covered waist as he'd start to pump into her quicker and quicker, eventually slamming his hips into hers as she screamed out, "Oh Seven", "Oh Gods", "Harder Sandor, please gods, harder.". And he'd always oblige her, pulling almost all the way out before slamming it home, rocking her and the table she'd lay on as he'd grunt and curse her for being so tight around him. "You know better woman than to talk to me like that with a cunt this good."

The petite woman was shaking as she was lost in her imaginations, her thighs quaking as she worked her soaked fingers over and inside her throbbing pussy, all but jabbing her fingers into that special place inside herself of her core as her body caught fire and burnt up. She pitched her fingers as deep as she could, her fingers curling and uncurling with each thrust, her back arching up off the now dampened sheets as she approached that sweet white-hot completion.

Back in her dreams, the woodcutter's wife was being ruined by her giant husband as he'd slammed home, again and again, pushing them both ever closer to their release. She'd throw one leg up onto the dining table as Sandor would lift her hips, thrusting up at a new angle and pushing his little wife to new highs as her voice reached a new pitch of cries. "Oh fuck! Gods, right there! Don't stop right there." Her wetness would drip down onto his pants and the audible sound of their bodies coming together paired with her moans and screams and his grunting would be too much on top of the pleasure. They'd come undone together as she screamed out her husband's name as she'd feel her walls clamp down on his thickness as he'd fill her with his seed, thrusting hard a few final times before he'd pull out. The woodcutter would lean down and kiss her ravaged wife hard on the mouth after he'd had his way with her.

These final moments of her daydream pushed the real wolf woman over the edge, and she came to a keening orgasm, her actual walls tightening around her like a sexual noose as she came apart. Her other hand never stopped rubbing her clit as she rocked and moaned her way through the powerful pleasure that ripped through her, a long and low 'Sandor' pouring from her lips as her orgasm faded away and her petite form collapsed into the old feather mattress. Time was slowed after that for awhile, as she pulled her hands away from her pulsing cunt as she rolled over, curling into a tight ball as she snuggled into the center of the bed. A small smile ghosted her lips in the irony of her fantasy of hers. She was still a maiden, had never known a man, and would certainly never know Sandor Clegane: The Hound, in this life or any other life.

_And fantasies they'll stay, now get up and get dressed you've got a hot meal and wine waiting for you downstairs if you can get your lazy arse out of bed._  

As Arya finally started to shift out of bed and look to find her knapsack with her spare clean clothes she didn't hear the quiet shifting of the door to hers and Sandor's room click shut.

* * *

 


End file.
